What If
by DonQ
Summary: What if the cheerleader didn't need any saving? What if all she needed was a path to walk, and someone to guide her? All reviews, comments, and critiques are welcome. [Unfinished]
1. What If Chapter 1

What If...

By Jorge Quinones

Disclaimers: Professor Xavier, Wolverine/Logan, and the characters pertaining to the comics that comprise the X-Men Universe belong to Marvel Comics, and much props to Stan "The Man" Lee and Jack "The King" Kirby for their genesis. Claire Bennet, and the characters of the awesomeness that is Heroes belong to NBC Universal, Inc. The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter 1**

The cryptic note both beckoned and teased from its perch atop the dresser. The envelope that had carried the note was simple enough: manila held shut not with the same adhesive as used in generic envelopes but with a wax seal bearing a school crest. There were no addresses written on the reverse, nor was there any postage, or post office markings. Only two words adorned the envelope, handwritten in an elegant calligraphy script: Claire Bennet.

Claire had not read the note she now stared at for over half an hour. She no longer needed to. Since opening the envelope she had found placed neatly on her bed, she had read and re-read the enigmatic message to the point that its contents, along with the highly detailed hand-drawn map that had also been in the envelope, had been committed to memory. For the hundredth time in so many minutes, Claire Bennet re-read the note in her mind's eye:

_Claire, __  
_

_You need not be alone. There are more of us than you think. The answers and guidance you seek await you in Alberta , Canada . Find the man named Logan .  
_

_Godspeed,  
Charles Francis Xavier  
Professor, School for Gifted Youngsters _

Although she wasn't entire sure why, Claire believed the letter. She could feel the honesty behind the words written by Prof. Xavier. Would her parents understand; could they? Claire loved both her parents very much. Her numerous suicide attempts had never been about hurting them, but with no guidance, she just didn't know of any other way to learn about herself. Now, however, a guiding light had appeared in the darkness. Would it prove to be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, or the train?

The next morning, after the usual ritual of parents calling for their children to rise and make ready for the new day, Claire's father would open her door only to find an empty room. He would later reflect on how neat and clean the room had been; how tidy the bed had been. The image of the bed upon which Claire's cheerleader uniform had been placed would be burned in his memory, for upon the uniform would be a simple sheet of paper. His disbelief would lead him to read the message over and over again:

_Dear Mom and Dad,  
I have to know. I love both of you and Lyle so much, but I have to know. You'll always be in_ _my thoughts._  
_-Claire_

**_To Be Continued... _**


	2. What If Chapter 2

What If...

By Jorge Quinones

Disclaimers: Professor Xavier, Wolverine/Logan, and the characters pertaining to the comics that comprise the X-Men Universe belong to Marvel Comics, and much props to Stan "The Man" Lee and Jack "The King" Kirby for their genesis. Claire Bennet, and the characters of the awesomeness that is Heroes belong to NBC Universal, Inc. The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Claire Bennet had seen enough movies and TV shows to have a fairly good grasp of how not to run away from home. She kept to by-roads, traveling mostly at night and mostly through the woods parallel to those roads during the day. Necessities, such as food and water, were bought at mom-and-pop grocery stores, the kind without surveillance cameras, and always paid in cash. She was rather proud of the fact that she had never spent any of her allowance on childish things, but that she had opted to wait for a rainy day. Today, about a month since the fateful night she had first read the letter from Prof. Xavier, was such a day. 

She passed several motels before she finally found one with the words she had been looking for: No ID or credit card required. To the rest of the world she no longer looked like the high school cheerleader she had been. Her clothes had been especially chosen to give her a more mature look. The simple glasses and french braid of her hair complemented the look. The easiest way to hide is in plain sight, she had told herself on he onset of her journey.

The clerk behind the counter looked like he had seen better days, as had the motel itself. His hair was stringy and greasy; stubble adorned a pale and gaunt face; food stains upon his thread-bare shirt stood testament to too many washings and not enough detergent.

"A room for the night," she said as she reached into her jacket pocket for her money.

The man's eyes never left the dusty TV as he reached for a key under the counter. He carelessly dropped it on the counter and reached for a lit cigarette in an over-burdened ashtray.

"Twenty bucks, write your name and room number in the book." His annoyance at having been interrupted during his program was clearly evident in his voice.

Claire wordlessly placed a twenty on the counter and scribbled in the dirty book near the telephone.

Joan Summers/Rm 103

_A common enough name, I suppose,_ she thought as she pocketed the keys and made her way out the office's door. The sound of the clerk's hand blindly looking for the money on the counter was lost amid another boom of thunder echoing through the weeping heavens.

Room 103 wasn't quite as bad as the last motel Claire had stayed in. This time around the cockroaches actually scattered when she turned on the lights. Unfortunately the mouse in the corner seemed quite content to continue nibbling on whatever it was he was eating. Claire decided she'd just as soon not find out what that was.

_Besides,_ Claire mused as she unceremoniously dropped her backpack on the disheveled bed, _it's not like I have to worry about an infection from a bite._

Roughly seven months ago, Claire had discovered she possessed the miraculous ability to heal near-instantaneously from virtually any wound. Thus far the only injury that had taken her out of commission had been a head wound where a piece of wood had lodged itself in her cranium. Although it had not killed her, Claire had remained in a state of torpor until the wooden fragment had been extracted.

"I wonder if I'm a vampire." Claire blurted out suddenly as she thought back to the night in question. She looked into the mirror behind the TV. The finely tanned face of a girl who had spent many a long hour practicing cheerleading routines in the baking Texas sun stared back. "Guess not," the reflection replied with a chuckle.

Claire rummaged through her backpack for a bottle of water and her traveling map. She briefly scanned the map before finding the approximate location of the motel she currently resided in. Highlighter in hand, she drew a small yellow circle on the map and traced a line along the road she had traveled to a pink circle some ways down. The ride from the Semi driver had definitely helped out.

_I'll have to remember to pay back Snowman when this is over, _Claire thought as she giggled at the kindly trucker's CB handle. She took a mental note of how much cash she had left, figuring in about how much she'd spent thus far and how much distance she'd covered. She sighed as she looked again at her map. A month of travel with half her budget gone and she was still in Texas, although not by much.

"Well, Joan," she said, looking at her reflection, "looks like we're going to have to get a job."

_**To Be Continued...**_


	3. What If Chapter 3

What If...

By Jorge Quinones

Disclaimers: Professor Xavier, Wolverine/Logan, and the characters pertaining to the comics that comprise the X-Men Universe belong to Marvel Comics, and much props to Stan "The Man" Lee and Jack "The King" Kirby for their genesis. Claire Bennet, and the characters of the awesomeness that is Heroes belong to NBC Universal, Inc. The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

"Hey, Joannie, order up!" the line cook called out as he plopped another breakfast platter on the already overfilled tray.

Claire Bennet, aka Joan Summers, finished writing down her current order and made her way to the kitchen counter. She truly disliked the morning rush; the constant complaining of eggs not done perfectly to order; coffee cups needing refilling; the near-constant flirting of men old enough to know better. This morning had already begun no differently than any other day this week. This day, however, would not end with "Joannie" going back to her motel room. After two weeks of long hours and double-shifts, Claire had saved up enough money to begin another leg of her journey to Alberta to find the man named Logan.

_And it can't get here fast enough,_ Claire thought as she flashed a smile and a wink at yet another construction worker that was ogling her. _The more tips, the better,_ she assured herself as she finished distributing the contents of the over-sized tray to the hungry patrons.

The bell above the door sounded as another patron entered the busy diner.

"Just have a seat, darling, and I'll be with you in just a moment," Claire called out over her shoulder as she returned the now empty tray to the kitchen counter. As she turned around she caught sight of the newcomer sliding into a bench seat at the far corner of the diner.

_Okay, table number seven,_ she thought to herself as she approached the young man casually thumbing through the menu.

"Hello," Claire began; reciting the waitress's litany she had memorized her first day of work, "Welcome to Ben's Diner. My name's Joan," she indicated the nameplate on her shirt, "and I'll be your waitress today. Could I start you off with a cup of coffee?"

The stranger looked up from his menu to meet Claire's eyes. The dark auburn, nearly red of his irises registered through his sunglasses. From his long, feathered brown hair to the impish grin on his chiseled, handsome face, the stranger definitely had a touch of the rouge in him.

"Tha' would be mos' 'preciated, mon cher." His thick Cajun accent was very evident in his reply.

"And what brings such a fine Louisiana gentleman to our little corner of Colorado?" Claire flashed her most charming smile. _Gotta earn the tips,_ her conscience reminded her, though she couldn't help but find the man intriguing. He had a certain air about him that made him stand out from the diner's usual fare.

"I be headin' north. An old friend, he owes me a game," he replied as he casually produced a deck of cards from thin air. "You play?" he asked as he cut and re-cut the deck in his right hand. His debonair grin was contagious.

"Sorry, stranger, I'm more of a chess girl."

"T'so? Oh, and you can be callin' me Remy."

"T'so, Remy," Claire grinned as her Texan accent tried to reproduce Remy's Cajun. "So, are you ready to order, or would you like a few minutes?"

"No, cher, I be ready. I be havin' a number eight," a casual flick of his wrist brought the eight of spades most of the way out of the deck, "if'n ya be so kind?"

My, isn't he the charmer, Claire thought as she wrote down his order. "One breakfast crepe and a cup of coffee, coming right up."

Claire made her goodbyes to the staff of Ben's Diner as she shouldered backpack. The end of the work shift had come, and Claire longed to continue her journey. She handed her waitress's uniform back to Ben and thanked him for having given her a job, if only for two weeks.

"Sure you won't stay a while longer, Joannie?" Ben asked as he held the diner's door open.

"Sorry, but I really have to get going." Claire gave the kindly owner a parting hug.

"Well, you were certainly one of the hardest workers I've ever had, so I know you won't give up easily in whatever life throws at you. Best of luck, eh Joannie?"

"Thanks, Ben. Take care!" Claire called back as she fished out her map.

She followed the various-colored highlighter path that marked her journey. She had had the novel idea to use alternating colors to denote the various legs of her journey. She traced her progress with her finger to its terminating point just north of Denver, Colorado.

_Not bad,_ she though as she folded the map and replaced it in her pocket, only to pull out a playing card.

Although he had been gone by the time Claire had come by to hand him his check, Remy had left her the payment for the meal, a generous tip, and a lone playing card: the Queen of Hearts. Claire grinned as she turned the card over in her fingers.

_Not bad at all._

_**To Be Continued...**_


End file.
